


Stars and Hearts

by Marsbarss



Category: Marvel 616, New Warriors
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Assassin Clint Barton, Assassin Natasha Romanov, Awesome Clint Barton, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:54:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22392847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marsbarss/pseuds/Marsbarss
Summary: In the world of Marvael, there exist individuals called Mages, able to harness the energies and elements of the world. Vance Astrovik is one such mage, of the rarest type: A Star Mage. On the run and pursued by mage hunters, the young man must survive in a foreign land, meeting colorful individuals along the way including two elusive assassins and a talented young mage, and learn to control his magic lest he meet his death at the end of a blade of the Rus Empire's mercenaries.This is just the start of a long journey with a bigger picture than Vance could ever imagine..
Kudos: 7





	1. A Young Star

The day was cool, typical of mid-Autumn. The scenery was a beautiful range of golds, browns, and reds, trees in mid turn and leaves coating every inch of land that fell beneath or near the branches. The branches with their sparse leaves cut into the sun’s light, directing rays and leaving patchy shadows. Somewhere, a lark sang its song and small woodland thrushes chirped in their animal language. Along the well-trodden path, muddy from recent rain and coated in leaves with rotten fence posts lining certain sections, a man walked.

Clad in a dark blue robe of a higher quality than one would typically find of a traveller, the mage took a leisurely pace towards his destination since he was in no particular hurry. When the road turned and took two different paths at a fork, the mage went right towards a hamlet a worn old sign might once have identified, if it was not so faded the letters were unlegible. 

The mage stopped for lunch only briefly at a large stump located at the edge of a barley field. He ate a meager meal of bread and cheese, and refilled his waterskin in a nearby stream before continuing onward. He passed a farmhouse some thirty minutes later and the family working the adjoining field stared not so subtly at the passing mage, pausing in their daily tasks.

A mage was an odd sight in these parts.

Especially one with a star shaped broach.

The day’s journey came to an end some two hours later when he finally reached the small town which was an assembly of a few dozen buildings on the bank of a shallow river. Small constructions of brick and mortar topped with thatched roofing made them almost identical to the dozen or so towns the mage had passed through previously. It wasn’t hard to identify the local inn, which rose higher than any other building except the church and it’s little bell tower.

Despite the rarity of magic, most folk could differentiate mages from another by the simple geometric symbol of the broaches and crests they wore. A flame meant a pyrokinetic, a droplet a water mage, geometric wind design meant a mage of air, a stone meant an earth mage. Subtleties of the exact design allowed mages to tell each other apart in more specific ways such as guild affiliations, military service, or simply who trained them. These four were the most common, mages of the basic four elements, but others existed. Mages of spirit, tinkering, nature, and the stars were some of those less commonly seen. Starmages in particular, those who held a special connection to the sky and its workings and sometimes were believed to be connected to heaven itself. They studied the workings of the sky: planets, stars, moons and their purposes and how they functioned. They harnessed the powerful kinetic energy of space into magical attacks. Often they worked closely with mages of Spirit, who communed with the other world. 

So, it wasn’t a shock to see the look the innkeeper gave the mage when he walked in, or the murmurings of some fellow patrons.

The mage approached the bar with a kindly smile, and drew his hood back. 

“Good evening.”

“Good 'evenin', ser mage. How can I help ye?”

“I’ll take your special, and amber ale. A room, too, if you’ve one to spare?” 

“Of course, we’ve one room left. I’ll get your food right away. That will be fifteen coppers for the lot.” 

“Thank you.” The mage handed the old woman her payment and took a seat at a table that put him in a position to view the rest of the room. 

As he waited, the mage took note of the other patrons currently at the inn. No other mages, he observed immediately. In another far table, a blonde man and red-headed woman talked in hushed tones. The man was tall and tanned, in contrast to the short and fair-skinned woman. The woman had a foreign look to her with her small form, wide set emerald green eyes, sharp nose and tall forehead. Her features were likely of the Central-Eastern kingdoms. The mage himself was from the Central-East, though his features cast a different look to him. He had a similarly sharp nose, but his was more pronounced, and his eyes were a hazel that looked blue in the sunlight. His hair was a dark, oak brown and his skin a shade darker. He guessed she must have been from the greater kingdom of Rus due to her complexion, or one of the farther North kingdoms such as Estia. He was from Slokav, which was one of many smaller states under the control of the Rus.

The man she was with, however, had the hardy features of the far Western kingdoms of Mercia. His stature, the musculature of his arms, and the way he held himself lent to the perception of a warrior. Like him, both of these individuals seemed far from home

The two stopped speaking, for a moment, when the woman’s eyes made contact with the mage’s. They stood and left only heartbeats later, and the mage was unhappy to note that neither of their footsteps made a sound. 

Assassins, most likely. 

“Here ye are, ser mage.” The innkeep set down a platter, containing a bowl of hot stew, a small loaf of bread, and a mug of an amber ale. 

“Thank you.” The mage smiled and handed the innkeep another few coppers, as a tip. He didn’t have much money, but he figured she could use it. He dug in as soon as she stepped away. The stew was good, strips of mutton with carrots, peas, and local wild veggies in a thick broth. The bread was a little hard, but fresher than anything he’d had recently. The ale was passable, though he never was much of a fan of alcohol. Once his meal was finished, he took the room key the innkeep provided him and ascended the stairs to a narrow hallway. 

The third room on the left was the one he’d rented. It was small, only a bed, chair, and nightstand within it but even the simple straw mattress of the bed with its thin pelt blankets and straw pillow looked absolutely amazing after days of travelling. 

The mage didn’t retire immediately, however. He checked the small window of the room, clasped the lock closed, double checked the door’s lock, and placed wards around the room. Once this was complete, he shucked off his boots and cloak, and tried to sleep.

Sleep came some two hours after laying down, and the mage only woke when morning’s light interrupted through the threadbare curtains over the window. 

He didn’t dawdle long in the morning, gathering his things, having a meal at the inn, buying more food supplies, and starting out on his way. While he wasn’t in a hurry, he didn’t like unsettling the locals of these small towns anymore than he had to.

As he was about to set out, however, the mage noticed a child following him, lurking in the shadows by the inn. 

“Why don’t you come out here and tell me your name and what you need?” The mage raised a brow, turning to look at the small child. The boy startled, and looked around, before stepping out of the shadows. 

“My name is Sam! I..my little sister is sick. You’re a mage. Mages heal people right? Can you do something?” The boy couldn’t have counted more than seven years. 

“Well, Sam, my name is Vance. Take me to her, I’ll see what I can do.” The boy beamed and grabbed Vance’s hand, dragging him off towards a small house on the edge of the town. 

When they neared, Sam broke away and ran ahead, yelling. “Mama, mama, I got help for Kaelynn!”

A young woman stepped out of the dwelling looking haggard and exasperated, understanding dawning on her face when she saw Vance. “Oh, Sam.” She took a deep breath and then straightened her dress. “I’m sorry if Sam was troubling you, ser mage-”

“It’s all right. I’m glad he approached me, I’d be happy to help if you’d allow me.” Vance smiled kindly, bowing his head respectfully. There didn’t seem to be any man home, and he didn’t feel anyone else around with his magic.

“Of course. Please come in, I’m Eva.” She smiled weakly, and stepped aside for him to enter. 

“My name is Vance, now, what can you tell me about your daughter’s condition?” Vance immediately caught sight of a small child, barely over a year old and clearly sick. Of course mages had their specializations. Vance was no healer, but he knew enough to treat minor illnesses and injuries, like most mages with a compatible typing to healing arts learned. 

“It started two nights ago, she seemed so healthy and then she just fell ill with fever. We’ve no apothecary or healer in town…..” She trailed off. “Forgive me ser, but you’re a starmage, how much do you know about healing?”

Vance smiled, kneeling down to examine the small girl. “Enough to help. It’s nothing serious now but it could grow worse. She’s weak and babies are especially vulnerable to what to you or I would be a superficial sickness. Sam was right to get me.” He pulled a small pouch from inside his cloak. “I can show you the right herbs to make a tea that will help her recover and cast a spell to boost her body’s ability to fight the illness. We can give her some of the tea now and I’ll leave you with enough to give her for the next week.” He went forward with showing the young mother how to brew a good tea for fever in young ones, and prayed as the tea brewed, asking God to help the child recover swiftly.

He stayed for two more days at the behest of Sam and the insistence of Eva to repay him for his kindness.

“My husband was a starmage.” The statement caught Vance off guard. It was the morning he was to leave, and little Kaelynn had made a swift recovery since he had administered treatment. 

“You say ‘was’..” 

“He was a Nova, one of Xandar’s starmage army…” Vance understood. Xandar was gone. The Novacorps were gone. It was a dead kingdom with a dead mage army. Those of its citizens who survived were scattered to the wind when their country fell at the swords and staves of their rivals. 

“I’m sorry.” Vance said. 

“I am too. Starmages are rare, more than before. I just wondered...I don’t know.” She shook her head. 

Vance nodded. “I don’t know any other starmages...I’m from Slokav. I’m sure you know what happens to mages there, since Rus conquered my homeland.”

She nodded then.

“I’m sure your husband was a good man, if he’s anything like Sam.”

“I just wondered...do you think Sam-?”

“Yes. ” 

She seemed upset for it to be confirmed. 

“I think he’ll be okay.”

“He’ll need a master, someone to apprentice under..train him.”

Vance shook his head. “I’m more trouble than I’m worth, even if I was old enough to take an apprentice already I wouldn’t be a good choice. Trust me. I’m sorry. I’ve heard there’s a few powerful starmages in Mercia. Ones with more training than I have.” 

The woman was disappointed, but nodded.

✩✩✩✩✩

Vance took his leave later in the morning, heading West on the main road. 

His progress was stopped short when he spotted a force of a dozen or so soldiers on the road ahead of him, causing him to rethink his route. 

“Stop there, mage!” The accent alarmed Vance. The ‘soldiers’ were Rus mercenaries. That didn’t bode well. Vance panicked, but didn’t move. 

“It’s him, the one we’re looking for!” 

Vance ran. When he couldn’t run anymore, he flew, taking to the skies with an aura of blue magic surrounding him.

And he flew. And flew. And he kept flying until he had long since left the village behind and the mercenaries were a safe distance away. It drained him, keeping to the sky. He had managed to shake them off, if only for a few hours. He didn’t stop flying until the sun had set, and then landed on the edge of a wooded path, cutting his path into the forest. He avoided main roads, careful as he navigated the expanse of woods. 

They caught up to him hours later, the snap of a trig alerting a Vance that was dead tired on his feet of their presence. He hardly had time to deflect the crossbow bolts that flew at him, his wards cracking under the force of the deadly weapons. Only so much could be done to repel the assault. The only light came from the glow of the full moon and his own magical aura. He waited for the next assault of crossbow bolts, but it never came. He heard a snapping sound to his left, and the ‘thwick!’ of arrows flying and hitting their targets to his right. The thump of bodies hitting the ground followed, and two forms stepped out from the bushes. 

Vance tensed, clenching and unclenching his fists and ready to lash out with what little mana he had left. 

The figures were a woman and man, that Vance recalled as the ones from the tavern. 

“Relax, kid, we’re the good guys. Ish?” The large blond man shrugged. He might have been grinning, but the woods were dark and Vance couldn’t see well in the low light.

“What he said. Come on, what you did to piss them off, there are always more and they will be after you.” The woman said, quick and to the point. Her accent was the heavy dialect of Northern Rus, Vance made out. She turned and started walking before he could react. 

The man clapped Vance on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over, and turned to follow the woman. “Name’s Hawkeye, that’s Black Widow.”

“...You have got to be shitting me.” Vance muttered.

“Nope! You’ll find we are, heh, deadly serious.” Hawkeye jibed, earning himself a very exaggerated eye roll from Black Widow. 

“Why help me?” Vance asked incredulously.

“We have a common enemy, and you’re interesting.” Black Widow replied simply, continuing ahead. She didn’t miss a beat, and seemed to know where they were going. 

Vance trailed closely behind them, trying to match their footsteps in the dark woods.

“Define interesting.”

“Vance Astrovik. Sixteen years of age. You’re a star mage, you’re from Slokav, and you’re on the run, Outside of Rus’ Empire. That’s rather interesting. Kind of storybook.” Hawkeye filled in. 

“Right.” The last syllable trailed off, “Well, blind trust has gotten me this far.” Vance chuckled somberly. 

“What’s another risk, right? I swear we don’t bite. Much. Well, that’s mostly Widow. But she’s more stabby than bitey, y’know?” Hawkeye made a vague gesture with his hands that Vance could only barely make out. 

“...Well, you’re certainly not what I expected the legendary Hawkeye to be like.” 

“Thanks, I get that a lot. Cute face, cute banter, it’s my thing.” 

“Talkative but still somehow tight lipped. Let me guess, you’d tell me your names but then you’d have to kill me?”

“Eh Widow might but if you wanna know, my name is Clint.”

“Last name?”

“Won’t be that easy.”

“I figured.”

Natasha stopped abruptly, and shot an arm out. “You two, shut up.”

Clint was at her side in a moment, looking out at the darkness. Vance struggled to stay upright, nearly falling at the sudden command. The moments dragged on and on, the two assassins still in front of him, watching something that Vance couldn’t see. 

It was too sudden when Clint moved again, and he took the lead walking this time. Natasha pressed Vance forward and took the rear guard. Neither of them spoke another work until they were out of the woods and the sun was rising.


	2. Beginnings

They’d been on the road for three weeks when they encountered another force of Rus mercs. It set them back by an hour, in between trying to find an alternate route to Mercia and fighting them off. The worst part was that they’d managed to integrate the thugs into the regular Mercian border guards.

Clint exhausted his quiver’s supply of arrows somewhere between thug number twenty seven and using the grappling hook arrow to get him and Natasha over the border wall while the young mage flew over it. Vance wasn’t strong enough to carry another person with him, even if Natasha was really light. So she hitched on with Clint, which was a bumpy but effective ride. They’d made it to the top, and Clint punched a stationed archer in the face just to turn around and steal his quiver. Nat grabbed the unlucky sonofabitch and threw him off of the wall. 

Vance was about to deposit himself on the battlements when an arrow tore through his right leg. He cried out in pain, starting to fall. Clint reacted, reaching out and grabbing the kid’s arm. He hauled him up with a strong pull. Vance collapsed against his side gratefully with his eyes glazed over from the pain.

“Shit, Nat. I think the arrow was poisoned. We gotta get the kid outta here.” Clint’s voice was pitched with alarm. Ah, futz. He hadn’t meant to get attached. Then again, did he ever? He wanted Vance to live. There was no point putting this much effort into the kid’s life for him to get taken out like this. 

Natasha whipped around and in a flash she was clearing them a path down the battlements, through the nearest watchtower, and onto the ground on the other side. By then the Mercian guards who weren’t Rus spies were able to subdue the remaining turncoats.

They fled in the aftermath of the confusion, into the seclusion of the woods. 

✩✩✩✩✩

Vance was really starting to hate the woods. The woods were dumb. Smelly, noisy, wet, and covered in bugs. Vance might not have been any sort of highborn, but he at least preferred a warm bed in a stone house, free of creepy crawlies and whatever god forsaken beast just made that sound. 

He opened his eyes to dusk overhead, just visible through the canopy of the oak trees. 

“You’re awake.” Vance looked to his right to see Natasha sitting by the beginnings of a fire, feeding it precious kindling. “How do you feel?”

“Like I lost an argument with a dragon.” His head was pounding, but at least that made the pain in his leg less noticeable. 

“You’re lucky. The poison was weak, they’re amateurs. Likely they meant to capture us alive.” The tone of her voice seemed to imply that the woman never intended to let them catch her while living. 

“You saved me again.” Vance sat up, slowly. His head was resting on his pack. He was on top of his bedroll, rather than in it. 

“I’m sure you’re worth the trouble.” Natasha hummed thoughtfully. Vance looked down at his leg, which was bandaged. He had more sense than to try and move it. “You are a better patient than Clint at least. He would be on his feet by now.”

“I’m sure he would be, he’s stronger than I am.”

“He is dumber than you are, is what you mean.” Natasha snorted.

“Awh! Nat you’re so mean.” The pout on his face lasted only a second, before the man was dropping down next to Nat, with a few plump birds and rabbits in hand. Fresh caught. “I got dinner!” 

Their food rations ran out a day ago. The meat was a feast to the three travellers. 

Once the food was eaten and the left overs stored away, the three slept in shifts.

✩✩✩✩✩

It shouldn’t have come as a shock when Natasha and Clint were gone, along with all of their things, once they were about a day out from the capital. 

It still hurt.

Vance at least wasn’t limping anymore. That made the remainder of the trip less painful and shorter in general. 

The air felt all together too silent, without Clint’s yammering or Natasha’s little chuckles. It was the weirdest but best company Vance had in ages. He’d miss them, but he understood that their path was different. 

The sound of the city was a welcome change. When Vance arrived it was turning night and he entered the city to a backdrop of the pink-orange sunset. It was relieving to be within the towering walls of the fortified capital of Mercia.

Hopefully away from danger for now. 

Vance didn’t have much money, but he managed to get himself a room at the first inn he came across. It was a small place with the corners of the brick foundation crumbling but it was a haven that came with a fur blanket, a warm meal, and a door with a lock.

He slept through the night without incident and in the morning he set about finding work. 

Navigating the streets of an unfamilar city was always an arduous task, and even moreso now when every byway was filled to the brim with people. He ducked his way past a crowd and slipped by a cart carrying expensive looking wool and carpets into a larger square lined with merchant’s stalls and the sound of music. 

The stalls were arranged in aisles, all surrounding the greater center of the marketsquare. Large banners with the city insignia flew overhead from bannister to bannister, creating some shielding from the sun. People hurried and danced and sung all around, gathered from different points of the world. Native Mercians mixed in with the colorful assortment of foreigners.

This area of the city seemed more alive than anywhere else. A thrumming heart beating at the center of the cobblestone jungle.

Vance passed by a man who enthusiastically waved trinkets at him, and a woman who claimed her elixers could cure any ailment. He noted the lack of mage broach. A mundane alchemist then. He wasn’t sure even if she was a mage, such claims could be trusted as far as one could throw the stout woman. 

He walked away from the alchemist and found his way over to a stall boasting a mighty collection of exotic fruits and vegetables. He paid for a small basket of berries and thanked the woman selling them. Berries acquired, Vance turned towards the open expanse in the center of the stalls.

His eyes caught on a flash of color at the center of the square. A performer. 

Vance shouldered his way through a small crowd to take a front row space. 

On a small wooden stage was a woman with fiery red hair, wearing a flowing and slightly transluecent red cloak pinned by a small, golden flame broach. She danced about the stage on sure feet clad in red flats. The short yellow dress she wore fell halfway to her knees and fanned out, pleated in a way that twirled when she spun. The underskirt was a pretty cream, and her black leggings added seemlessly to the ensemble. The gold bracers on her wrists and ankles caught Vance’s attention next, and brought his eyes to the flames dancing around her feet and in her palms. 

She was the most beautiful woman Vance had ever seen.

Without realising it, he became entranced by her. The majesty and ferocity and grace. Their eyes locked when she turned towards the crowd and Vance felt his heart skip a beat. He sucked in a breath and tried not to stare like an awestruck idiot. Judging by the way her eyes shone and she laughed, he must’ve failed. He willed his jaw shut and cursed the warming of his cheeks. 

The performance was over all too soon, the woman hopping off of the stage and hugging a teal skinned blonde woman with pointed ears. 

Vance skirted along the edge of the crowd, heading towards the two women without a single ounce of thought put into it. Whatever half baked sentence he had ready died before it left his lips. The two women looked at him strangely, and he turned bright red. Vance sputtered and cleared his throat. 

“Sorry- You.. Were amazing. I’ve never seen anything like that before.” His accent gave him away, he was sure. Not many in Mercia were walking around with a Slokavian accent. “A mage performing, that is.” He felt the need to explain himself, and not seem like a weirdo. Was he failing? He was probably failing.

The woman laughed, and for a second Vance felt shame on his cheeks, until she smiled so brightly. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Stick around in town for a while longer and you might just see more, hm?” She had a way about her, movements that caught Vance’s eyes and a voice that made him just want to hear her say anything more. “I’m Angelica. This is Namorita.” She laid both of her hands over her heart and bowed her head in greeting. 

Vance bowed in return with far less graceful movements. “My name is Vance. It’s nice to meet you both.” When he looked up, he met the sea-green eyed gaze of the sea elf. Her sharp eyed look reminded him vaguely of a shark.

For a long moment, Namorita seemed to size Vance up, before she smiled and crossed her arms. “Same to you, Supertights.” 

“...Supertights..?” The odd nickname felt weird on his lips. 

“Well, go around in tights like those.” Namorita snickered. Vance found himself red in the face again. Mercian style didn’t lend to skin tight leggings on their men, which Vance observed more acutely when he looked around again. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself. Angelica laughed again.

“Come, we were just about to have our midday meal. Join us, please.”

“Are you sure?” Vance seemed uncertain, a little hesitant. 

“Of course, it’s no trouble. There’s a wonderful tavern nearby that makes the best ox stew in the capital.” Angelica was very convincing. Though, Vance just might have done anything she told him to. He ended up insisting he pay, though, as a token of good fortune.

As soon as they entered, Vance got the feeling that they were being watched. He scanned the room as they sat down, examining. A couple at another table, a group of women in a corner, some men playing cards. The server. The barkeep….and another man, alone.

“What’s Slokav like?” Namorita asked, when their meal was nearly finished. Vance hadn’t had ox stew anywhere else in Mercia, but he was inclined to believe this was the best ox stew he’d ever had.

The question took him off guard. He thought about it for a moment. “I can’t speak for the cities but my village was located in the south, on a bluff near a large lake. The trees are old there, and immeasurably tall. From the tallest branches, you can see the wall that Rus built.”

“Did you climb them?” 

Vance shook his head. “I flew.”

“You can fly? You’re not an air mage.” Angelica cut in.

“I can manipulate the star- kinetic energy. Telekinesis. I can use it to fly, though for a long time all I could do was hover a few feet in the air.” 

“That’s amazing, Vance.” Angelica beamed at him and it was like she was the sun. Vance matched her enthusiasm with a grin. Namorita’s laughter snapped him out of it. 

“Oh Supertights you are not subtle, hm? Get a room, you two.” Angelica swatted the blonde’s shoulder with a huff. She grinned back.

Vance sputtered. “I- er, I don’t-” 

“Teasing, relax.” Namorita pursed her lips and downed the last of her lager. “You’re so easily flustered.”

Vance took a second to recover from embarrassment. 

“Enough of that. What are your plans, Vance?” Angelica asked to change the subject. “What do you do?”

Vance finished off the last of his ale to give himself a second to think about it. 

“I...don’t have a profession, yet. I just do what people need. Small jobs, hired work.” Under just his first name, no mention of his family name. It was simpler that way. The traders he guarded usually didn’t ask many questions.

“Drifter like us, hm?” Namorita pushed her hair back and leaned against the dark wood table. 

“Something like that. I was hoping to find a guild to join here.”

“I was hoping that as well,” Namorita sighed, “But not many are keen to take on a sea elf, and Angel here keeps scaring off guildmasters with her forthcoming personality.” She grinned with a sly edge. Angelica elbowed her in the ribs. 

“Not my fault they’re all ran by pigs.”

“They pay silvers, though.”

Vance drifted off for a moment while Angelica and Namorita delved into a heated conversation about the guilds they’d applied to. He observed the room. He felt the eyes on them again. The lone man had moved from his table and to the bar, not five paces away from them. Vance sucked in a breath and stiffened. 

“-wouldn’t you say so, Vance?’

Vance looked up at them. “Hm? Oh, yeah.”

“You weren’t listening, were you?” Namorita laughed. 

“Someone’s been watching us.” Vance said, his voice low. 

Angelica’s smile faded, as did Namorita’s. 

“At the bar, the merchant..” At least, he looked like a merchant by the finery of his clothes, and the way he held himself. Mercian born, most likely. Vance could have sworn he saw the man smile before he turned around and stood up, walking right over to their table. 

“I happened to hear that you three are looking for a guild to join..” The man started, with a look that Vance thought might be the most dangerous he’d ever seen, besides the look in Black Widow’s eyes.

“We are. You know one?”

“I’m starting one. And I need initiates. Founding members. A star mage, a fire mage, and a sea-elf warrior? That’s a good start.”

Angelica pursed her lips. “What can you offer? Benefits. Pay.” 

“An equal cut of missions completed, and eight silvers every week in addition as well as a place to stay in the guild hall should you need it.” Almost a full gold a week, which was more than Vance had in his coffers at the moment.

“That’s much more than what some of the others offered…” Namorita narrowed her eyes. “Is there a catch?”

“Not at all, though, beginning a guild is tough. Building reputation especially, credibility will be a pain with how young we all are, and acquiring jobs is sometimes difficult. I need you to give your all, and I will push you in training and working.” 

Vance nodded. “Okay. I’m in.” 

Angelica’s smile turned to a wide grin. “I’m in too.” 

“Oh I can’t let you two have all the fun. Me as well.” Namorita smiled. 

The man smiled, a small but warm thing. “My name is Dwayne Taylor, welcome to the New Warriors adventurer’s guild.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with more bullshit and probably more ambitious of an AU than I'll be able to write but!! I'm gonna try. I'd love any feedback and comments y'all have!


End file.
